


I've come home

by Gweiddi_at_Ecate



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gweiddi_at_Ecate/pseuds/Gweiddi_at_Ecate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had given her a crown. The lord of the dead had put her on a throne next to his, asked for her advice in front of the damned souls. He listened carefully, glared at the shades in her eyes and the thrills down her arms. He made love to her, night after night, sometimes for whole days, escaping his godly duties to relish in the tenderness of her limbs, but he didn’t speak to her, not really."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've come home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alister/gifts).



> English isn't my mother tongue, so if you find mistakes feel free to point them out.
> 
> Apparently I'm on mythology phase again. And while my true OTP is Eros/Psyche I can't help but loving deeply the king and queen of the Underworld. So here I am, with a one-shot dedicated to my wonderful sister Alister.  
> I love you, sis'

At first going back felt hard.

Persephone hadn’t realized how deeply she had missed the warmth of Helios’s sun on her skin, or swimming in the chilly waters of the rivers with the nymphs of her mother’s court, not until it was time to give it all up again.

When Father Zeus had had her returned to Demeter, Persephone hadn’t known what to feel. She had been smashed between the longing for her mother and the bright colours of the earth above, and a tenacious affection she had grown toward her husband.

Back that day, shielded by Hades’s shoulders, who had fiercely tried to refuse to let her go, Persephone hadn’t said a word. Demeter had accused the lord of the Underworld of forcing her to eat the seeds, and he, stern but more understanding than anyone could ever guess, had taken the blame. He had even dared to grin and tell her mother he wanted to be sure Persephone would stay.

In the past six months he hadn’t told anyone the truth, and nor had she.

Persephone had swallowed the seeds on her own will.

True, Hades had watched her, he had sat next to her, the pomegranate in his hand while the young goddess had taken the slippery grains in her fingers and put them in her mouth, tasting the sour yet sweet flavour on her tongue.

May the Fates help her, Persephone still didn’t know why she had done it.

Hades had abducted her, stripped her of her maidenhood – but taking, not _raping_ as Demeter claimed, because on their first night together he had been strong and relentless in the worship of her body, but also gentle and attentive. He had spent all the dark hours of their bed making her moan and adjust – and after it he had barely spoken to Persephone.

He had given her a crown. The lord of the dead had put her on a throne next to his, asked for her advice in front of the damned souls. He had listened carefully, glared at the shades in her eyes and at the thrills down her arms. He had made love to her, night after night, sometimes for whole days, escaping his godly duties to relish in the tenderness of her limbs, but he had never spoken to her, not really.

Persephone didn’t even know why he had stolen her off her mother. He wouldn’t tell, and in the months she had just spent above she had never heard from him, just how she had expected.

She couldn’t say she had eaten the pomegranate out of love. She didn’t love Hades. She didn’t know him.

Why had she condemned herself so? Why taste a fruit that would chain her to his cold kingdom when she had the chance to bid him her farewell and dip forever in glorious sunlight?

Persephone wished she could cry, but no matter what, tears wouldn’t wet her eyes. She was helpless.

And then the day came: the first morning of cool air, leaves on the branches starting to tremble, their green liveliness imperceptibly gliding. The end of summer.

Demeter wept in the way Persephone couldn’t manage to. The earth goddess appeared sorrowful and desperate to leave her daughter, but still proud and burning with anger as Hades approached silently with his chariot to whip Persephone away from her motherly arms.

Suddenly she knew.

Persephone looked at her husband, looked at his eyes, and she finally understood why she had forever bound herself to him.

There was anger in his dark glare, but more than it, more than a thousand-year-old hatred for his kin, who had exiled him to an infertile land, there was sadness. A void so deep it sucked away any light or joy, and left him only with loneliness and despair.

Persephone couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight the urge she felt to fill that void, to soothe that cruel grief.

She sensed in her heart that she was born for that: to stand next to Hades, grip his long and pale hands and whisper him sweet words until a first smile could finally draw his lips. She was meant to be his queen, his counterpart, his kinder half. If only they dared to allow it.

Hades was cruel, and cold, and terrifying. But he was also gentle, delicate and thorough. She had seen it. She had experienced it on her very flesh.

Persephone left her mother’s embrace. She absent-mindedly stroked one of the black horses, reaching for the chariot.

Hades offered her his hand, and Persephone took it gladly.

It was calloused and strong, cold on the fingertips, but warmer on the palm. She knew from her nights with him that where his clothes covered it, the skin of his arms and chest and legs bore deep scars from when he was a child, and then a young god fighting the Titans with rage and ferocity.

Persephone guessed he would let her kiss those scars on the night, back in their bed. Back home.

She would always be torn between two lands, two names – Melinoia, Kore.  She was both, she had always been fated to be both, and so much more. Karpophoros, Praxidike – two tasks. But it was up to her to choose the place to call home.

In the austerity of Hades’s gestures, in the nice caress he gave her secretly so nor Demeter, nor anyone else could notice it, Persephone thought she might already know where her heart truly belonged.

She smiled at him, and Hades stiffened, puzzled at her soft face.

There. A flicker of light, a spark of happiness that dared to exist for a fragment of time in his eyes, before doubt obscured them again. Still, Persephone rejoiced for how much a simple smile could do to him. It was to be treasured.

She bade her mother farewell, waved slowly with the hand which was not holding Hades’s wrist.

The earth quaked, the horses neighed and pawed, and then the ground broke, an entrance to dreary Erebus itself.

Darkness came, Persephone heard her mother crying, the fields already losing vitality to Demeter’s renewed grief. Her heart stung, and she gripped Hades more tightly, his arms surrounding her dearly.

The voices of the dead souls reached her ears, a melancholic lullaby, a hymn to the queen’s return. It was so different from the world above it overwhelmed her.

When she had come back aboveground the nymphs had sung and danced and laughed, put flowers in her hair and gifted her with necklaces of fragrant herbs and blossoms. It had been noisy and cheerful.

But that, that quiet song smoothing the otherwise silent banks of the infernal rivers, the pale spirits tilting up their heads to drink in the vision of their sovereigns… that spoke to the core of her eternal soul. It murmured soft feelings to the part of her that Persephone kept hidden most of the time.

She felt respected. Adored. Loved.

The hoofs of the horses hit the ground. A slight jolt when the chariot landed.

Hades eased her down, lifting her by the hips.

«Welcome back, wife.»

He glanced at her, stroking a fair lock behind her ear. He seemed so strict, as unknown as the day he had first taken Persephone to the Underworld. But nights and weeks had passed nevertheless, and for all he could seem and look, she could figure him out a little better than that.

He wasn’t strict, he wasn’t unknown.

She called herself a fool for believing him so for such a long time.

Persephone took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the new cold air. Before Hades could move, she kissed him lightly, her lips chaste and soft.

«I’ve missed you, husband.»

He smiled.

 


End file.
